Prick of the Needle
by LM Simpson
Summary: oneshot. Tintin knew that this would happen eventually, but that didn't make it hurt any less.


**Title: **Prick of the Needle

**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)

**Pairing(s): **friendship!Tintin/Haddock

**Rating: **K

**Warning(s): **Death

**Disclaimer: **I do not resemble Hergé in any way. Oh, and unlike him, I am also alive and do not have my estate doing my copyright things. I did this for my own entertainment.

**Other tidbits: **I like Snowy. He's probably my favorite character along with Captain Haddock. I know that this is quite morbid, but I'm just shocked that seemingly no one has thought of what would happen if Snowy was sick or dying.

0000

Snowy wondered why everyone was being so nice to him.

True, everyone at Marlinspike Hall treated him well, but never to this degree. He had gotten sick, had experienced broken legs, and had been in extreme pain before, and yet he had never been pampered like a celebrity purse pet until now.

The fox terrier swore that every single person that passed by his dog bed every day for the past month would pet his head and declare what a wonderful boy he was. Sometimes the adjective "brave" or "strong" would be added, usually right before a sniff into a handkerchief.

"Wonderful?" "Brave?" "Strong?" The showering compliments confused him.

Yeah, he had rescued his master several times, but he had not been able to even get out of bed for the better of the past month—the pain while walking became too great recently. Nowadays he was doped out on pain medication every four hours, but the pain still lingered. Sometimes he would accidentally wet himself when Nestor or Tintin took too long to come to take him to the bathroom—what was so wonderful or brave or strong about that?

The charity did not stop there.

The professor would sneak into Tintin's bedroom every other day with dog treats and questions he wanted the terrier to answer at some point in the future, like what was the afterlife like (if there was indeed one), or how much did a soul weigh (if there was indeed one). The questions were all quite bewildering to Snowy, but then again, so was the professor.

The captain would also sneak into the room at least once a day to pour some of a bottle of whisky into his water dish.

"I think you need this more than me, lad," the captain would say before petting him and giving him the inevitable compliments. He wondered why the captain would willingly give him alcohol, but it made him sleepy and did kill some of the remaining pain. Maybe, then, the captain was in great pain too.

Tintin's deed, however, was alarming. It was so unlike him to encourage the dog to chew bones, but when he wasn't struggling to eat meal scraps and medicine, Snowy had all the bones he could ever wish to chew on (that is, when he was in the mood to chew on them).

The quantity of kindness he had received in the past month had since passed the border between "concerned" and "creepy."

After Tintin gave him dried chicken bones for the third successful night, Snowy decided that everyone was plotting something. It certainly did not help when he heard the captain and Tintin have a conversation about him just outside the bedroom.

"Are you sure you want to go alone tomorrow?" Haddock asked.

"I was the only one there when I first got Snowy. I just thought… that it was best that I would be the only one there when I said goodbye to him…"

Snowy heard Tintin sniffle.

"I understand, Tintin. Just remember that you did the best you could to help him."

"Yes… Yes, that's true, captain… And… at least he'll no longer be in pain… Right?"

"Aye. Do try to get some sleep, alright?"

"…Sure. Good night, captain."

When he entered, Tintin's cheeks were as red as his hair and as wet as his eyes. Snowy did not know how to feel as Tintin brushed his fingers through his soft white fur and whispered, between stifled sobs, "Be strong just a little bit longer, boy. You've been so brave and I'm so proud of you. Hang in there; you're so close…"

Tintin appeared to contemplate hugging him post-petting, but withdrew his arms at the last second.

"No, not tonight… I have faith you'll wake up tomorrow…"

Snowy was scared now. What exactly was Tintin talking about? What was wrong with him? He knew he was going to the vet the next day, but what was going to happen to him there? Was Tintin going to let the vet take him away? Staying in that cold metal hospital cage for the rest of his life wasn't a great idea to him.

Only fatigue made him fall asleep. When he did come to, it was mid-morning and Tintin was driving towards the vet. Snowy himself was on the front passenger's side, still lying in his dog bed. Tintin was evidently driving below the speed limit to lessen the impact of speed bumps. He also looked like he barely had any sleep either.

To Snowy, it seemed that it took less time than usual for him to be processed before the doctor's assistant summoned Tintin and him. To Tintin, it seemed like he endured three lifetimes in twenty minutes.

"Do you want to be around during the procedure, Mister Tintin?" The vet queried.

It killed him to see his beloved dog on death's door while lying on that metal table.

"Yes; I feel like it's my obligation," the boy reporter replied without hesitation. "I could not live with myself without assuring myself that Snowy went through this quickly and painlessly…"

"Oh, trust me," the gray haired and mustached doctor said, "He will go quite quickly and painlessly. He should be unconscious within thirty seconds of the first injection…"

Snowy whimpered at "injection." Tintin petted him.

"Don't worry, boy. Your suffering will end soon…

"Can I hold him while you do it, doctor? Maybe he'll be less… scared if I hold him."

"I don't see why not," The vet said as he placed the first latex glove on his left hand.

Snowy cried out in pain as Tintin attempted to hug him. Gently placing him back onto the table, Tintin apologized profusely. Leave it to him to make Snowy's final moments be of him in pain. Instead, he stood in front of his pet, petting him on the back, and repeatedly whispered the usual things Snowy had heard for weeks...

Then he heard Tintin, fighting the urge to shed tears, utter "Cancer won't hurt you anymore. Goodbye, Snowy… I'll see you later."

Before Snowy could react, he felt a prick on his hind. Within seconds whatever was in the IV made him drop onto the table. His eyes were still wide open as the vet confirmed the euthanasia's results.

"See? He died very quickly and very painlessly," the doctor said as he disposed of his latex gloves.

Tintin only stood in shock. "Yes… Yes, he did, doctor…"

0000

When he finally gained enough energy to leave the "death room," Tintin noticed a familiar figure sitting in a black sedan.

"Captain?" Tintin said, standing over the driver's side window. "I thought I told you that I would be the only one here today…"

"I assumed that you wouldn't be in good enough condition to drive after seeing your dog put to sleep. I mean, blistering barnacles, no man should ever have to experience that pain alone," he said, sighing. "Come on; get into the passenger's side. We can always pick up your car later."

Tintin didn't bother to argue. The captain was right.

As Haddock drove back to Marlinspike Hall, he found the silence in the car… disturbing. Of course, as a sailor he grew to find silence as a whole disturbing.

"Say, Tintin?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"How old was Snowy?"

"Fourteen. I got him when I was seven."

"Fourteen? Oh wow. He's been around for, what two-thirds of your life? What's a dog's life expectancy, lad?"

"For a dog like Snowy… I think it was… Thirteen years?"

"Thirteen? Wait—do you know what that means, Tintin?"

"What, Captain?"

"That means that Snowy lived past a normal life expectancy for a dog his breed! Yeah, cancer ate him up in the past couple of months, but for the most part he lived a long, productive, _happy _life. I can't name a single other dog that had an owner so caring and devoting, Tintin! I'm sure that if Snowy was given the chance to do his life all over again with no changes, he would gladly accept! You gave Snowy the best fourteen years of his life, lad! Remember that, Tintin…"

For the first time in months, Tintin smiled. "Yes, I sure did, huh, Captain?"

The red haired reporter felt warmer, happier. "You know, Captain? I know this sounds silly, but I swear, I can feel like Snowy will always be there for me…"

Snowy's spirit "barked" in agreement as he settled down in his master's lap.


End file.
